


Something Old, Something Dude

by Lexalicious70



Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-08-27
Packaged: 2018-02-15 02:24:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2212227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lexalicious70/pseuds/Lexalicious70
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: Beverly Hills party boy Dick Casablancas is forced into marriage as his father and the father of his intended strike a business deal, but his would-be bride ends up being far more than he bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Old, Something Dude

Something Old, Something Dude 

H. Richard "Big Dick" Casablancas paced the length of the Neptune Grand's Presidential suite, the room's thick curtains shutting out the rays of the sun that blessed Neptune almost every day. The elegant oak door that closed the bedroom off from the rest of the room was shut and locked, and after a moment, the tall, broad man gave a short, sharp sigh before going to rap on the door. 

"Dick!" 

"I'm not coming out!" His son yelled through the door, and Big Dick's face dropped into a scowl as he tried the door's brass handle. 

"Like hell you're not! I told you, it's been decided!" 

"You decided! I never agreed to this and I'm not coming out!" 

Big Dick cursed softly and rattled the handle again. 

"Dick, if you don't open this door, you can kiss your trust fund goodbye!" 

The door's handle gave a soft ping as it was unlocked from the other side and then the door swung open. Dick stood there in a pair of dark slacks and a white dress shirt. It hung unbuttoned and a black-and-grey striped tie hung in a loose loop around his neck. His shaggy blond hair was damp but uncombed from a recent shower.

"Trust? Okay dad, let's talk about trust!" His tall, broad frame filled the doorway and then Big Dick was stepping backwards hastily as his son advanced on him. His big feet were still bare, the heels clean but rough from spending hours on his surfboard. 

"Dick—" 

"Hey, you wanted me to come out, so I'm out!" Dick threw his hands in the air. "And trust, dad? Yeah, I guess I trusted you to not sell me into an arranged marriage, but hey, here we are!" Dick gestured, and Big Dick sighed and put a hand on his son's broad shoulder. 

"Dick . . . I admit this is a business arrangement more than anything . . . and you know what happens if we back out now. You know!" 

"With all the lawyers we have, there must be another way!" Dick argued, and Big Dick reached out to button his son's shirt. When Dick didn't pull away, his father tugged the tie over the collar and began to tie it with the practiced motions of a life-long businessman. 

"Either we make this merger, or I don't step foot on U.S. soil ever again, Dick." He straightened the tie. "There." 

"Can you at least tell me who I'm marrying?" Dick asked, and Big Dick patted his shoulder. 

"Go finish getting ready." 

Despite the gentle tone, Dick heard the note of finality in his father's voice and he nodded, turning back toward the bathroom. As much as he tried, he couldn't forget the life he was leaving behind with this arrangement: four years at a party college, friends, endless waves to surf, a future of his choosing. 

"Shit." Dick muttered as he ran a comb through his hair and tried to forget why they were in this shitty little beach town, miles away from their home in Beverly Hills and from his kid brother Cassidy, who his father had shipped off to a boarding school in New England to keep him from interfering. 

"Dick!" His father called, and Dick looked into the mirror, unable to escape the reason they were here after all. He stepped into his highly-polished shoes and then closed his eyes. 

"Please God." He muttered. "If I gotta do this? At least let her be a hottie!"  
*********************************************************************************  
In a high-priced room two floors down, Aaron Echolls watched his son Logan shrug on an ebony suit coat before he adjusted his tie. 

"I don't know why you had to choose such a dark color," Aaron observed. 

"I'm amazed you let me choose it all. After all . . . you chose everything else." Logan buttoned the coat and then his muscles tightened in a flight-or-fight response as his father grabbed his arm and turned him with a rough yank. 

"You're damn right I did! And I'm doing this for you! After that scandal in Cabo, you should be Goddamn grateful that Casablancas never caught wind of it because otherwise he may never have agreed to this, no matter what I have on him! Or would you rather think of your mother looking down on you while you sell yourself on the streets for food? Or isn't it enough for you that she's looking down at all?" 

"Don't you put that on me!" Logan shook himself free and readjusted his coat. "She wouldn't have wanted this! No matter what. She never would have sold me this way!" 

"Spare me your dramatics, Logan. And what's the difference if I sell you or you sell yourself?" 

Logan avoided looking in the mirror. 

"Can you at least tell me something about this person I'm marrying?" 

Aaron opened his mouth to reply when someone knocked on the door. 

"Everything's ready, Mr. Echolls!" 

"Be right there!" Aaron called back, his breezy tone belaying the scowl on his face. His square jaw tightened as he grabbed Logan's arm and squeezed it again, hard enough for Logan to grit his teeth against the pain. 

"You screw this up?" Aaron pulled him closer until they were almost nose to nose. "And I'll make very sure that it's the last time you fuck up my life!" He yanked Logan toward the door and then gave him a hard shove. Logan stumbled and then recovered in time avoid slamming into the door face first before his father yanked it open, the million-dollar smile he usually wore for his legions of fans slipping over his features like a well-worn mask.  
***********************************************************************************  
Down in a private ballroom, Dick and his father waited with a local deacon who looked to Dick as if he might have been blessing weddings since around the time the Mayflower landed. He wheezed slightly with every exhale as he flipped through the thin book that held his notes and a few prompts, the lights from the room's chandelier bouncing off the lenses of his half-glasses. Dick shifted his weight and flicked his hair from his eyes and his father cleared his throat. 

"If he bails on this deal, I swear—" 

The muted squeak of the ballroom door interrupted him and Dick's eyes widened as Aaron Echolls, 80s action hero and more recently a staple in bad movies on that sappy chick cable network that his mom used to watch, stepped into the room, herding a kid about his own age. He was shorter than Dick but lean and toned, with dark ginger hair, the tips frosted blond. Dick turned to his father. 

"I don't get it. That's—he's a dude!" 

Big Dick nodded. 

"That's right. His name is Logan Echolls—he's Aaron Echoll's son, and he's the one you're marrying." 

"What? Him? No! I can't do that, dad!" 

"Why not? It's perfectly legal, and don't even try to tell me that you don't have any experience with this sort of thing! Not after I saw you and that dark-haired pool boy we had last summer. In the changing house? Remember?" 

"I remember!" Dick said through gritted teeth as the deacon glanced up from his papers with a sniff. Big Dick nodded. 

"Good! So no problems, right?" 

Dick found himself shaking his head as Aaron Echolls all but shoved his son up to the front of the room. Dick watched as the former action star nodded tersely to his father.  
"I've kept my end of the bargain, Casablancas. Now you keep yours." 

"Of course!" Dick's dad smiled in a way that he usually reserved for when he closed huge real estate deals. It was a friendly, expansive smile, a smile that made everyone on the receiving end believe he was their best friend. 

He smiled the same way when he told Beav about boarding school, Dick thought to himself. The smile of a man who always gets his way. 

"Shall we begin?" The deacon asked in his soft, papery tone, and Aaron turned Logan more firmly toward Dick. Dick looked down at the other kid, who stared back up at him with dark hazel eyes that were flecked with grey. His expression was shuttered, the set of his mouth tight, his jaw set, as the deacon began the ceremony under the watchful eyes of the men who had made this bargain. At one point, Big Dick handed him a set of gold rings and nudged him hard in the shoulder as Aaron reached out to put his hand on Logan's right shoulder. It was intended to present as a warm gesture, but Dick didn't miss how Aaron's hand tightened in warning, or how Logan put his hand out in compliance. Dick slipped the ring on his finger as the deacon continued to mumble his way through the ceremony and then watched as Logan took the other ring. Cool, smooth metal slid up his finger a moment later and then the deacon nodded.

"I now pronounce you joined in marriage. Go with God." The deacon closed his book with a snap and shuffled away, leaving the boys and their two witnesses standing there. Aaron nodded. 

"It's done. He's your problem now, Casablancas." He dropped his hand from Logan's shoulder and turned, his expensive shoes clacking on the tile floor as he walked out of the room. Logan remained with his back to Aaron as he walked away, and then Big Dick nodded. 

"I've arranged for a car to drive you to your new place. It's right on the beach, pal, I think you'll like it." 

"Yeah . . . thanks dad." Dick said as he looked down at his new—wife? Husband? Same-sex partner? The ol' brah and chain? Nothing seemed to fit. He cleared his throat as Big Dick's cell rang and his father walked away to take the call. 

"So . . . I'm Dick. You don't have to call me Richard, like the preacher dude did." 

"Logan." The other boy muttered without looking up. When he offered nothing further, Dick shifted his weight. 

"Listen, uhm . . . I didn't know about this either. My dad—he and your dad made some kind of deal. But look . . . it's not like my dad runs a porn ring or anything. It's just me." Dick shrugged. "I mean—you're pretty safe." 

"Boys? The car is here!" Big Dick called, and Logan looked up at the man he was now married to, his eyes narrowed. 

"I may have to be married to you. I might even have to live with you. But that doesn't mean that I ever have to give a shit about you and what you think about my supposed safety!" Logan snapped the words out and pelted Dick with them before he turned and marched out of the ballroom, his fists clenched. Dick sighed and pushed a hand through his hair, letting the tamed locks fall down across his forehead like usual. 

"Great. Millions of dudes in the world, and I end up getting hitched to the second coming of Sean Penn!"


End file.
